Waves of Robots and Testosterone
by R. A. Xip
Summary: Sniper's more abrasive and sardonic side makes an appearance. The robot horde attacks demand that the Team be scattered, and Spy finds himself with Sniper and Pyro.


A cry for help reached Spy's ears. He was skirting a pack of Punch Heavies that were making their way up the path toward the Coaltown warehouse. One of them carried the bomb; he couldn't get distracted. Ignoring Pyro's call, he fell in behind the group of bots disguised as one of their Medics.

They didn't notice him until he had sapped 4 in a row, making his way toward the one carrying the bomb. Now he was in danger. Seven robot heads swiveled to look at him while the eighth trotted on obliviously. Spy's new followers pressed in on him, and he drew out his revolver, shooting one of them down. It took all 6 rounds.

The next was close enough to throw a punch. He was easy to dodge. Then more fists, too many to avoid, closing in on him until he was cornered. Just 6 feet away, an open doorway offered an escape. He made a move towards it. A blow caught him in the shoulder and another in the collarbone. He swiped with his knife, but was in a bad position to deal any damage.

A gap in his swarming attackers showed a glimpse of the bomb-carrier still fixed on his target: the Mann Co. facility. He was no longer concerned with preserving his own life, only with stopping that one robot.

"Get ze bomb!" He yelled. Another blow knocked him into the sand. "Zat one! Don't let it-"

He was overtaken. The alarm went off, and the administrator's voice not far behind, saying "The bomb is about to be deployed! Stop them, stop them!"

One, two seconds passed. Spy felt blackness well behind his eyes, taking each hit with less resistance. He felt it was over.

A gunshot rang out, echoing and bouncing through the map. The alarm stopped. Suddenly each robot stood, turned, and made for the dropped bomb. Spy was left alone for the time being, so, remembering the health pack in the doorway, he half-crawled to it and tore open the kit.

One rifle shot after another, the Punch Heavies dropped like flies. A length of unsure silence stretched on. He stood, unsteady, his shoulder and arm wrapped and curled carefully against his chest. There was no movement, no sound, in either direction.

Then a sudden crunching noise as Sniper's boots hit the ground, landing in a crouch from a vault off his perch. He looked smug. "Yor wilcome."

Spy was too irritated to reply. He turned away and began walking toward the front of the battlefield, where Pyro's call had come from. Sniper followed a distance behind. "The wave is gone fer now. You need t'get that busted face taken care of."

"Don't try to be so compassionate. Leave me. Return to your hiding hole."

Sniper laughed. He was louder and more cocksure around Spy, for reasons he didn't care to understand. Perhaps it was the competition of rouge vs. rouge. "You say that, but when it comes time to get your hands dirty, that invisiwatch a' yors starts to look mighty good, dunnit?"

He ignored him. Gray Mann's ship came into view, settled into the desert land about a half mile away. For now, no more robots were coming, but they had left hundreds of footprints in the sand. There were signs of a struggle near where Pyro lay sprawled lifeless on the ground.

Spy knelt near his comrade and examined his fatal wounds. "Demoknights. Zat last wave contained Demoknights."

"We've been foitin' melee classes since dis afternoon. S'pose they're running out of ammo?"

"It's too early to tell." He rose to his feet, feeling blood from his mouth fall onto his chin. Without looking to see if Sniper was following, Spy turned to walk towards the facility to repair his weapons- and himself. Pyro would be there waiting.

"Wunda how the others ah doing. Up there in Canada."

The sun was setting and casting an orange tint everywhere. Spy stopped at the doors inside and looked out at Coaltown. Robot bodies dotted the land.

"Where's Agent Pauling and those two blubbering butlers usually milling about up here?"

"In Viaduct, I expect. I should have known you wouldn't last a single day wizout a motherly figure to clean up after you." Spy said disdainfully.

"Yeah, keep to yaself. I've got less cleanin' up to do than some arand heah. I don't trim my eyebrows every mornin', for stahtahs."

Spy made a face and mimicked him silently while Sniper had his head turned. The Australian was muttering something to himself now. "I could go for a pint and a warm body right abat nah. Bloody company thinks I'm stickin' arand long with this kinda pay, they got anutha thing coming."

He could see Pyro inside now. As unsettling as it was being alone with him, Spy would take it over listening to Sniper find new ways to brag about himself. "Do us a favor and return to your van. It's filled with people who would love to engage you in your offering of intelligent conversation."

"Roight, roight. You're French. I shouldn't keep ya from your evening groomin'. Pluck a nose hair for me, you hear?"


End file.
